


Insomnia

by StarfighterCommand



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Legends: X-wing Series - All Media Types, rogue squadron - Fandom, x-wing - Fandom
Genre: Dark, Emotional pain, M/M, Masturbation, anguish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 13:59:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8404342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarfighterCommand/pseuds/StarfighterCommand
Summary: Wedge tries to sleep the night after testifying at Tycho's trial.





	

Wedge started awake, bolting upright in bed. His heart was racing and he sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Cold sweat stuck the sheets to his body and he shivered in spite of feeling feverish; he had no memory of the dream that had woken him and he couldn’t figure out why a sense of dread and despair blanketed him the moment he returned to consciousness. He reached out a hand, reflexively, and it fell on empty sheets beside him.

 

_Tycho._

 

It hit him all at once, and Wedge moaned, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his forehead on them. Tycho. Who should be by his side, not stuck in some cell in a New Republic prison, waiting for the end of a trial that seemed to already have been decided.

 

_And all I did was help that decision along...in the wrong direction._

 

Despite all of the assurances Diric Wessiri had given him after his testimony, Wedge couldn’t help but feel that he’d just made things worse. And that moment when he’d had to admit, in front of the entire New Republic basically (and worse, in front of Tycho), that for a second, for the smallest fraction of a heartbeat he’d let himself consider that Corran’s accusations might be true was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

 

He’d never believed it of course, and he knew--when he’d gotten the courage to actually glance over at Tycho--that Tycho knew it, too. The blonde pilot had smiled in that soft, slight way he had that said: _It’s okay. I know, Wedge. I understand._ It didn’t mean that Wedge forgave himself, but it at least made it bearable.

 

But none of it helped Tycho at all. And Wedge remembered his dream, now; Tycho found guilty, being taken away, Wedge trying desperately to get to him, to free him before the irreversible sentence was carried out and unable to move, to help, to do anything. For the thousandth time since he’d heard them, Tycho’s words the first time Wedge had seen him shackled and bound--and the outrage at it all, the fact that on top of everything, he wasn’t even allowed to touch Tycho--chased themselves through his head. 

 

_“You figured out a plan to take Coruscant away from the Empire. Springing me from prison shouldn’t be that hard for you to manage.”_

 

It had been said lightly, jokingly almost, but that had been back when they both had far more hope that actual justice would be done. Now the words stung like a live wire laid on Wedge’s skin, made his body practically thrum with the sudden urge to jump up, throw together a bag of supplies and find some way--any way--to get Tycho out of here. Away from the danger. Safe. There were worlds they could go to that didn’t care, places they could live out a quiet, unnoticed life…

 

He couldn’t. Wedge slumped with the realization and fell backwards, his head hitting the pillow. It wasn’t just the sense of duty that Leia had known would keep him from actually resigning despite his threats if the trial went forward. No, it went deeper than that. To run now, to hide, was to all but admit that Tycho was guilty. To make him live with that blight on his honor, to know that around every corner might be someone waiting to claim the inevitable bounty on his head. Wedge couldn’t do that to his love. No, the only thing to do was live through the torment of the trial and hope for the best. Things would work out. They had to.

 

_But what if they don’t?_ The nagging thought wouldn’t leave Wedge alone and he hammered a fist into the bed, gritting his teeth. He had to put it aside. If things went wrong, then he’d consider more desperate measures but not now. Not yet.

 

The realization left him feeling helpless, a feeling he barely tolerated at the best of times. Wedge growled, throwing an arm across his face, but he knew that trying to get back to sleep was pointless. The fact that he couldn’t do anything made it that much more imperative that he do _something_. He was restless, twitchy; without thinking, his hand reached out for Tycho again, slapped against the body pillow he’d taken to sleeping with for some semblance of comfort since his love was taken from him.

 

If he closed his eyes and imagined hard enough, he could almost, almost believe…

 

With a desperate groan, Wedge rolled over and grabbed the pillow tightly in his arms, hooking a leg over it. He hadn’t thought about his own needs, particularly the physical ones, since Tycho was taken. How could he when what Tycho was going through was so much worse? But now, just as suddenly, he couldn’t think of anything else.

 

His eyes stayed tightly shut. Opening them would destroy the fleeting fantasy that he’d created for himself, the sense that for a moment at least, he wasn’t alone again. Wedge clutched the pillow to himself, feeling heat pooling in his groin, a desperate need after so long without Tycho. Rolling his hips upwards rubbed the growing bulge in his underwear against the fabric and he gasped.

 

“H-hhhaaahhh...Ty…” The breathy exhalation was torn from him, tears slipping from beneath closed lids as he nearly lost the illusion. Knuckles whitened as his fingers tightened in the pillow, desperately trying to overwhelm thought with lust. 

 

He managed to hold it just long enough. It didn’t take long, not after keeping it in for weeks. Gasping, nearly sobbing, Wedge shuddered and released, a hot wave of pleasure wracking him from head to curled toes. As he went limp, panting, everything came flooding back to overwhelm him; he shivered, suddenly cold.

 

The moist warmth at his crotch slowly grew clammy and sticky, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t let go of the pillow, not even to shift to a more comfortable position. Touch was the only thing grounding him, keeping him from getting swept away by a tide of grief and fear he couldn’t hope to control. And topping it all was the shame of indulging himself when he knew Tycho was just as alone as he was.

 

No, Tycho was more alone. He had Rogue, his friends. Tycho had nothing.

 

Wedge whimpered, a sound of pain torn from far deeper inside him than he’d thought he had the capacity to feel anymore. Everyone he let get close to him...they always suffered for it. He should have known better, should have kept Tycho at arm’s length, for Tycho’s sake. And now it was too late. His love for Tycho had grown until it was no longer possible to push him away, and the realization brought back everything he’d been considering before. Whatever he had to do to save Tycho, even if it meant turning his back on everything else he believed in, he’d do.

 

Those were the thoughts that chased him back down into dark and uneasy sleep. And try as he would, those were the thoughts that would greet him in the morning.


End file.
